Khepri shook her head in disgust as she approached the meeting spot. The location was half a days ride via Keetone from the Underden and taking place near an oasis that's only claim to offering the water that saved lives was a glorified puddle. She felt exposed, venturing so far north into the Scorch and had to keep reminding herself not to fearfully look to the skies as if expecting a Dracgon to swoop down upon her. It was a childish fear, she knew, and the fact that she was traveling with twenty one Wardens along having Ajax by her side almost guaranteed victory over a lone oppressor.

Her people, once the hunters, were now the hunted. The Human Queens had made it a point to obsessively patrol the border between the mainland and the Scorch after the Werewolves' banishment. Any Wolf who was deemed to be 'too close' to the imaginary line was often slaughtered by the Dracgons. The sadistic bastards seemed to enjoy making her species suffer. Rarely did a Dracgon allow a Werewolf to walk away from an encounter with them with their life, and when they did, the Wolf in question was permanently maimed. Khepri's own tutor, an Apkhon named Sibran, had once encountered a Dracgon himself and now needed to use crutches to walk.

Khepri dismounted her Keetone and grinned as it touched its snout to her face in affection before wandering to lie beneath the lone tree of the oasis for a nap. She took in her surroundings with a small sigh, still unsure of the Maharani's end game when it came to inviting the Sands Reaper to be within their midst. All Werewolves knew that he had a distinct hatred for their species and would attack them at even the smallest of provocations. If it was rumored that he was nearby locations in which her people resided, they would lay low for days underground. None of them wished to be as lambs awaiting slaughter.

She was resplendent in her sandsilks for this official welcoming. She wore an ivory colored breastband beneath a transparent, sleeveless tunic of a whimsy fabric that was turquoise. Her calf length leggings were of the same color and made of an opaque material. Her head covering was made of the same material as her tunic, and the fabric that concealed her face from the cheekbones down was the same as her leggings. She had forsook the Sei-Tog that allowed her people to be amongst the Humans unnoticed and instead outlined her pale blue eyes with kal to shield against the sun's rays. The black ring encircling her irises was on proud display this day. Her hair had even been shaped into curls for this, much to her chagrin, and a fringe that was artfully swept to the side laid over her forehead.

Khepri looked down at her turquoise moccasins as she heard those accompanying her dismount as well. Grains of sand fluttered over the rest with every small breeze, often making the flesh above the silver cuffs that protected her ankles from the bites of snakes and the like tingle. She stepped out of her moccasins and placed the soles of her bare feet directly onto the sands, wincing as the heat seared her flesh before growing accustomed.

Placing her palms against each other beneath her breastbone, Khepri took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and went searching within her own mind. Focusing on the silver orb of her telepathic abilities, she sent her consciousness searching for nearby members of her kind.

Disregarding the contingent of Werewolves accompanying her, she broadcast her consciousness further into the Scorch.

It was eerie being able to feel and see, in a sense, all of the life inhabiting the desolate landscape. She was aware of each insect, reptile, and small mammal who scraped an existence from it. She could even feel the life within the sand itself; it was a living, breathing, mindless thing. The magic of it all never failed to conjure awe within her. She kept searching, eventually settling on a small party that was heading in their direction. There were three beings... Only three. There should have been eight Werewolves and one other. Never only one Werewolf and two others.

Khepri was further alarmed when, focusing on the one Werewolf in the party, she could sense the blood, pain, and suffering. She sent herself searching within her messenger, planting her awareness within the mind of her subject and using her eyes to actually see those that were with her. As she gazed to the left, she saw the man that could only be the Sand Reaper. He was injured too, and filthy. Both her subject and her quarry were the worse for wear; a battle had obviously taken place somewhere and neither were unscathed.

Gazing to the right, with her eyes falling upon the other individual traveling with them, brought to Khepri a murderous rage that was tinged with halting respect.

Jase.

Masika, her messenger, was in grave condition. Khepri knew the cause of it as she gazed upon the Dracgon that was about to be in their midst. She was not only wounded, but suffering from Alabastar poisoning. Masika's organs were struggling to retain their ability to function due to the toxin, and her wound hadn't healed within hours as it should have.

Jase was responsible for the deaths of hundreds, maybe even as many as a thousand Werewolves over the course of the past eight centuries. When Werewolf Heiresses came of age, there was a process of Ascension and the reception of memories from their ancestors. With the Ascension, there also came the ability to access the memories of all other Werewolves, dead or alive, at will. Khepri had sat in front of a fire many times and focused on all memories containing interactions with Dracgons. There were many memories in which Jase's face was the last one seen before the death of a Werewolf. In one of the more memorable memories, the Wolf had actually managed to bite the asshole before their demise.

Most Werewolves respected the Dracgon simply because he was consistent. He was the enemy that they knew, and he typically didn't prolong the suffering of the Wolves he chose to battle and kill. There were exceptions, of course, for those who managed to injure him... but his hatred didn't go so far as to be sadistic as the Sands Reaper.

Masika had departed the Underden in the presence of seven Wardens meant to keep her safe, and now none were to be found. Khepri fully emerged her consciousness within the memories of her envoy, rifling through them until she found what it was that she wanted. Even in her unconscious state and being transported on a litter being drug by a Keetone, Masika's instincts still made it so that she had a fingertip trailing through the sands. The Werewolves had adapted to life in the Scorch to the point that they had discovered that if both parties had contact with the sand, they could communicate via the Link across the entire expanse of the desert. A Werewolf that was at the southernmost tip of the continent could still clearly communicate with a Werewolf at the border, thousands of miles away.

Khepri latched onto the memory that she needed. She could see the entire battle in vivid detail, she could see Jase with his crossbow pistols as he wreaked havoc upon them all and destroyed the Wardens single handed. She witnessed Masika's fall to him, the Reaper battling him in a hopeless conflict; the Dracgon, at his age, was almost unbeatable. It was finally the dispatch of Keetone venom that brought him injury and immeasurable pain - the Sand Reaper had inadvertently discovered one of the secrets of the Werewolves. The young Heiress was grateful that he possessed no knowledge of their exact utilization of the potent substance in battle, although she figured that it was only a matter of time until he would puzzle it out.

Their warriors would routinely coat their claws and fangs in a powder, created from Keetone venom, that the Apkhon produced. It was one of the few ways that a Werewolf could bring harm to a Dracgon when battling one on one. The powder had to be reapplied after four hours, but it was a small trade off to make in the eyes of the Izfetai.

Khepri returned her consciousness to herself, opening her eyes and snarling. "They bring Jase with them. All of the Wardens are dead."

The news was met with resounding snarls from the other twenty three members of the Heiress's party. None of them relished the idea of having a Dracgon coming towards them, and every instinct each Werewolf possessed demanded that they respond to the potential threat with preemptive violence.

Khepri turned her gaze toward the Apkhon that was traveling with them, Maaz. "Masika has been wounded. She fought the Dracgon after her Wardens were slain and needs to be Scalded before the Alabastar harms her any further." Neither Khepri's facial expression or tone conveyed her fears for her messenger, who was also a cousin. She hid her emotions behind a stoic mask, hoping her regal act did not betray her inner turmoil.

The Apkhon nodded solemnly before fishing within his robes and producing one of the special vials used to contain Keetone venom and passing it to his mistress. Khepri wandered to the small tree that her personal Keetone, Nugget, had taken shelter beneath. She squatted down and patted his head. "I need a favor, friend," she murmured.

The Keetone's eyes, fixed to the end of what looked like antennae, focused on her before rolling. The creature huffed and shook its head before turning away.

"Nugget, be reasonable," Khepri admonished, as the desert beast determinedly ignored her presence. "Masika's hurt and needs your help."

The Keetone snorted before pretending to snore. His noises were loud and obnoxious enough to draw the attention of everyone else in her party.

"That's the last time I bring you on a mission, then!" Khepri vowed. "Next time, I'll choose your brother over you and leave you to get fat in the corrals," she threatened her pet.

Nugget huffed, his tongue coming out of the end of his mouth to spit and show Khepri just what he thought of that idea. The creature let out a series of rumbles and growls that sounded suspiciously as if he were muttering to himself and cursing her name before opening his mouth as wide as he could. Khepri wasted no time in pressing her fingertips to the gland beneath his tongue and harvesting some of his precious venom.

"Thank you, Nugget. I knew you'd come through," Khepri murmured, placing a kiss on her pet's head. The Keetone growled to himself and lifted one of his paws into the air with a huff.

"Disrespectful little shit." Khepri's insult was full of affection. She journeyed back to her party and passed the vial of venom back to Maaz, stepping to the front of them and allowing those who made up her escort to flank her. Ajax stepped close, off to her right hand side.

"Is there any hope of saving her?" He queried in a soft voice, gently trailing his fingertips up and down her arm in a reassuring fashion. The open display of affection was unusual among her kind. If anyone else noticed it, they had the grace to not utter a sound.

"I don't know..." Khepri sighed. "The Reaper and the Dracgon have kept her alive thus far, and tended to her wounds. It was not done out of respect, however, it was done because she refused to tell them where to meet us. They needed her to guide them here."

Ajax nodded. "I'm here, Pearl," he murmured. "Just know that I'll die to defend both you and your kin."

Khepri smiled sadly at him. "I know, my love. But today is not the day that any of us here fall. I may not have the gift of foresight, but I can feel it within my bones."

She turned to address those with her, "On pain of being rendered petty - NONE of you are to speak to the Reaper or the Dracgon with him in a threatening manner. Any sort of conflict instigation will be dealt with swiftly and violently. No matter our pasts, they arrive as honored guests and will be afforded all due courtesy."

The Werewolves assumed their designated formation, spread out in a 'v' shape behind the Heiress. The Apkhon stood slightly behind Khepri and to her left, while Ajax was off to her right. All was eerily still as they awaited their guests, and not a word was said between members of the delegation. Eventually, the sands ahead of them began to stir, announcing the imminent arrival of those that they awaited.

As the small party came into sight, surprise was very evident upon the faces of the Reaper and the Dracgon. Neither of them had been expecting a royal welcome from the Werewolves. It was a high honor to be greeted so upon the sands of the Scorch, and the irony of what the longtime enemies were doing now was not lost upon any of them.

The Reaper and his companion halted a safe distance in front of them, with Masika on the litter between them. Still unconscious. Still suffering.

Khepri stepped forward bravely, dwarfed by those who protected her back and by those she now faced. She reached up and pulled the bit of fabric that concealed her from the cheekbone down away from her face.

"Greetings, honored guests," she spoke the words formally. "The Maharani of the Scourge Werewolves welcomes you into her territory with sheathed claws." She attempted a polite smile that came out as more of a smirk. "Please, let us relieve you of the burden caused by our wounded and escort you to the safety found within the lap of the Hyde Stones," she invited politely.

"I am Khepri, Heiress of my people. It is my honor to make your acquaintance, Verheiin," she nodded graciously to him. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see the Dracgon, Jase in your company."

There was a distinct lack of response to her formal greeting from both the Verheiin and the Dracgon; a true insult, yet Khepri acknowledged it not at all. She looked to the Apkhon present and nodded once, sweeping her hand towards her suffering cousin.

The withered, aged Werewolf quickly rushed forward to do her bidding as Ajax ordered four Wardens forward to assist him with hand signals. They would be needed to hold the injured female down as the Keetone venom Scalded her and fought the poison of the Alabastar. As soon as the venom made its way into her stomach, the seizures and unearthly howls of pain would begin. The outward signs and symptoms of the battle being waged in the messenger's body could be present for a week at best, a month or two at worst. Khepri hoped that Masika would recover quickly from her Scalding, her cousin had always been a true friend to her. As the daughter of her mother's brother, she had always occupied a high station within the Pack. The two young Werewolf females were also very close in age, with Khepri being a mere seven hours older than her cousin. They had been den-mates and had also shared a milk-mother.

"If it would please you, honored guests, to ride within the safe contingent of my Wardens, we shall be arriving at the Hyde within a few hours." Khepri's tone was formal once more, and she gestured for an extra Keetone to be brought forward to bear a passenger.

"I think not. I don't savor the smell of dog and would prefer not to surround myself with it." The Verheiin's tone was wrought with distaste and disrespect. "We'll ride shortly behind your party, a safe distance from your stench."

Khepri internally bristled as she held up a quelling hand towards Ajax, who had been about to step forward to defend both his love's honor and that of his species.

"If that is what you prefer, Verheiin, I am more than happy to oblige. I must admit, if I were a dangler, I would prefer to ride behind a female as well. All the better to enjoy a view of her backside and fight the urge to kiss it."

Khepri was satisfied when the Verheiin glared fiercely at her retort, spitting onto the sands before turning about, walking a few feet away, and mounting his Keetone.

Khepri found herself left alone with the Dracgon for a moment, who had snorted to conceal his chuckles during her verbal sparring with his companion. "I know that you don't truly mind the smell of dog, Dracgon," she spoke demurely. "If you find yourself longing for a warm, wet place amongst all this dry sand... Please inform me, and I'll do my utmost to see you satisfied." She winked at him. One of the memories of an encounter with Jace before the demise of one of her people had been of a more intimate nature.

If Dracgon's were able to shoot Alabastar out of their eyes, she was sure that the fierceness of his glare would have left her nothing but smoldering ash and Shards, on the spot.

"Fuck you, Cur." He spat onto the sand as well, turning his back on her pointedly and storming off towards his own war-tone.

"Time and place, my lord Dracgon. Time and place."